Dark Fire (16 page)

Returning to the hall, I removed my cap and robe. It was cooler indoors and I stood a moment, savouring the air on my sweat-coated face, then went into the parlour. Joseph had taken a seat in my
armchair and he jumped up, embarrassed. I waved a hand.

‘Don’t worry, Joseph, it’s a cursed hot day.’ I took a hard chair opposite him. Despite his tiredness I saw there was an excited gleam in his eyes, a new look of
hope.

‘Sir,’ he said, ‘I have been successful. My brother will see you.’

‘Well done.’ I poured us some beer from a pot Joan had left on the table. ‘How did you manage it?’

‘It wasn’t easy. I went to the house; they had to let me in or else cause a scene in front of the servants. I told Edwin you were uncertain of Elizabeth’s guilt and wanted to
talk to the family before deciding whether you could continue to represent her. Edwin was very hostile at first, angry at my interference. And I’m no good hand at lying; I feared I would
become confused.’

I smiled. ‘No, Joseph, you are too honest for that trade.’

‘I don’t like it. But for Lizzy’s sake – anyway, my mother persuaded him. That surprised me because she was against the poor girl most of all, though she’s her own
granddaughter. But Mother said if we could convince you it must have been Elizabeth that killed Ralph, you would leave them alone to grieve. Sir, they’ll see us tomorrow morning at ten. They
will all be at home then.’

‘Good. Well done, Joseph.’

‘I fear I let them believe you have doubts about Lizzy’s innocence.’ He gave me an imploring look. ‘But it was not an unchristian thing, was it, to lie for her
sake?’

‘Often the world does not allow us to be too pure, I fear.’

‘God sets us hard dilemmas.’ He shook his head sadly.

I looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. I should have to hurry. ‘I am sorry, Joseph, but I must leave you again. I have an engagement at Lincoln’s Inn. Meet me at the Walbrook
conduit tomorrow, just before ten.’

‘I will, sir. You are good to give me your time when you are so busy.’

‘Have you eaten? Stay here, my housekeeper will fetch you something.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

I bowed quickly and left him. I told Joan to fetch him some food, then hurriedly donned my robe again; it had been washed the day before but already had a City stink. I wanted to catch both
Marchamount and Bealknap before the dinner. As I hurried out to the street, I thought: poor honest Joseph, if he knew the nightmare tangle of deceptions Cromwell had involved me in he would flee
the house. But no, he would not; while I was his only hope of setting Elizabeth free he would stand fast, like a much-battered rock.

I
REFLECTED ON WHAT
Barak had told me at the wharf. With my naturally sceptical temperament it was hard for me to believe Greek Fire could be real, and
as for ‘Sepultus’ Gristwood, no class of persons is more associated with trickery than alchemists. Yet I had no doubt Barak had truthfully described what he saw. And he and Cromwell
were hardly people to be taken in easily. There were new wonders and terrors every day in this world, which many prophets said was coming to its end; but I could not quite believe in it all yet. It
was too fantastical.

And if it
was
real? The Byzantines might have kept the secret so well they ended by losing it, but in this our Europe of spies and religious quarrels England could not keep such a secret
for long. It would be stolen sooner or later, and then what? The seas empty of ships, whole navies devoured by fire? I shook my head in troubled perplexity; how bizarre it seemed to me, thinking of
such things and all the while trudging through the dust of staid, familiar Chancery Lane. I must put such thoughts from my head, I told myself, concentrate on the task ahead. And after being
followed yesterday I had an eye out for my own security. I cast a quick glance round, but the only others in the lane were more robed lawyers riding to the Inn. An acquaintance waved and I returned
his salute. With a dark glance at the Domus opposite, I turned under the Lincoln’s Inn gate, the guard in his box bowing as I passed.

I went first to my chambers, for I needed to leave a note for Godfrey. I had expected them to be empty but when I entered Skelly was there copying, slouched so low over his quill his nose almost
touched the papers. He peered up at me.

‘In on a Sunday, John? You should not bend your head so close to the paper, the humours will rush to your brain.’

‘It took me so long to rewrite the Beckman conveyance, sir, I got behind. I came in to copy the arbitration agreement for the Salters’ Company.’

‘Well, this shows application,’ I said. I leaned over to have a look, then caught my breath. He had failed to ensure his ink was well mixed and a pale dribble of words ran across the
page. ‘This is no good.’

He looked up at me tremulously, his eyes red. ‘What’s wrong with it, sir?’

‘The ink is watery.’ His miserable stare made me suddenly angry. ‘Look, can’t you see? This will fade in a year. A legal document is no good unless it be written in thick
black ink.’

‘I’m sorry, sir.’

My irritation spilled over. ‘It’ll have to be done again. That’s more good paper you’ve cost me, Skelly. The cost will come from your wages.’ I frowned at his
anxious face. ‘Oh, just start again.’

Godfrey’s door opened. ‘What’s afoot? I thought I heard raised voices.’

‘John Skelly would make an angel in the heavenly spheres raise its voice. I didn’t think you’d be in, Godfrey. You’re not going to the lunch with Norfolk
surely?’

He grunted. ‘I thought I should see what the papist rogue looked like in the flesh.’

‘Now that we are met, may I ask a favour? Come into my room.’

‘Certainly.’

I closed the door on Skelly, and bade my friend sit down. ‘Godfrey, I have a – a new matter. Something urgent. Together with the Wentworth case it will take much of my time this next
fortnight. Can you deal with some of my work? For a share of the fee, of course.’

‘I would be happy to. Including the Bealknap hearing?’

‘No, I had better keep that. But everything else.’

He studied me carefully. ‘You look troubled, Matthew.’

‘I hate losing my temper. But between Skelly and this new affair—’

‘Something interesting?’

‘I can’t speak of it. Now – ’ I lifted a heap of papers from a table – ‘I will show you what cases I have.’ I spent half an hour going through my
matters with him, relieved that, apart from the Bealknap case next week, I should not have to appear in court for a fortnight.

‘I am in your debt again,’ I said when we were done. ‘Any news of your friend Robert Barnes?’

He sighed heavily. ‘Still in the Tower.’

‘Barnes is a friend of Archbishop Cranmer’s. Surely he’ll protect him.’

‘I hope so.’ He brightened. ‘The archbishop is to give the sermons at St Paul’s Cross next week now Bishop Sampson is in the Tower.’ He clenched his fist, reminding
me that for all his mild ways he was fierce in his religion. ‘With God’s help we
will
prevail over the papist troop.’

‘Listen, Godfrey, I’ll try to get into chambers when I can. Keep an eye on Skelly, try and get him to produce work that’s at least presentable. I have another appointment now,
but I will see you at the lunch. Thank you, my friend.’

I went out again, crossing the courtyard to Marchamount’s rooms. Over by the Great Hall servants were bustling in and out, getting everything ready for the dinner. The four Inns of Court
vied for the patronage of those near to the king and Norfolk’s presence was something of a coup, for all that his politics would be unpopular with many members of Lincoln’s Inn.

I knocked and entered Marchamount’s outer office. It was impressive, books and documents lining the shelves and, even on Sunday, a clerk labouring busily over papers. He looked up
enquiringly.

‘Is the serjeant in?’

‘He’s very busy, sir. Has a big case starting in Common Pleas tomorrow.’

‘Tell him it is Brother Shardlake, on Lord Cromwell’s business.’

His eyes widened at that and he disappeared through a door. A moment later he was back and bowed me through.

Gabriel Marchamount, like many barristers, lived as well as worked in Lincoln’s Inn. His receiving room was as opulent as any I had seen. Expensive wallpaper in bright reds and greens
lined the walls. Marchamount sat in a high-backed chair that would not have shamed a bishop, behind a wide desk strewn with papers. His broad figure was encased in an expensive yellow doublet with
a pea-green belly that emphasized his choleric colour; his thin reddish hair was combed carefully over his pate. A robe edged with fur lay on a cushion nearby together with his white
serjeant’s coif, the mark of his rank: the highest position a barrister can reach short of a judgeship. A silver goblet of wine stood at his elbow.

Marchamount was known as a man who lived and breathed the law and loved the status it brought him; since his admission to the Order of the Coif three years before his patrician manner and habits
had expanded to the extent that they were the subject of mocking jokes about the Inn. It was said he hoped to rise further, to a judgeship. Though the gossips said his advancement owed much to his
cultivation of contacts among the anti-reform party at the king’s court, I knew his intelligence was not to be underrated.

He rose and greeted me with a smile and a small bow. I saw his dark eyes were sharp and wary.

‘Brother Shardlake. Are you here for my lunch with the duke?’ He smiled with false modesty. I had not realized he had arranged the meal. ‘My lunch’ was typical of
him.

‘I might look in.’

‘How goes business?’

‘Well enough, thank you, Serjeant.’

‘Wine, Brother?’

‘Thank you, it is a little early for me.’

He sat down again. ‘I hear you are retained to advise in the Wentworth case. An unpleasant business. Not much
unguentum auri
there, I’d guess.’

I smiled tightly. ‘No. A small fee. In fact, it is another killing I have called to see you about. Michael Gristwood and his brother have been brutally murdered.’

I watched carefully for his reaction, but he only nodded sadly and said, ‘Yes, I know. A dreadful business.’

‘How did you know, sir?’ I asked sharply. ‘This has been kept quiet on Lord Cromwell’s orders.’

He spread his arms. ‘His widow came to see me yesterday. Said you had told her the house was hers, asked for my help in getting it transferred into her name since I knew her
husband.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Is the Greek Fire formula gone?’

I paused; the words seemed to hang in the stuffy air for a moment. ‘Yes, Serjeant. That is why Lord Cromwell wants the matter investigated quickly and secretly. She was quick off the
mark,’ I added. ‘I wonder she didn’t go to Bealknap. He was nearer her husband in station.’

‘She has no money. Bealknap would turn her away in a second if she couldn’t pay him, but she knew I do charitable work sometimes.’ He gave a self-satisfied smile.
‘I’ve long since stopped doing minor estate work myself, but I know a junior fellow who will help her.’

Yes, I thought, Marchamount was the sort to do charitable work in the hope it would bring him merit with God, in accordance with the old religion’s tenets. He would enjoy having the old
ways back, too, the rich ceremonial and sonorous Latin.

‘Tell the barrister nothing about the circumstances,’ I told him. ‘Lord Cromwell doesn’t want this news leaking.’

He bridled a little at my peremptory manner. ‘I could work that out for myself. I said nothing of Greek Fire to Goodwife Gristwood. Of course, she merely said her husband and his brother
had been murdered. Not that that is unusual in these times.’ He paused. ‘There is to be no inquest?’

‘The matter is to stay in Lord Cromwell’s hands. And I am instructed to talk to all who knew about Greek Fire. I have to ask you to tell me everything about your involvement,
Serjeant.’

Marchamount settled himself in his chair, linking his hands together. Square strong hands, yet soft and as white as his face was red. A gold ring containing an enormous emerald glinted on one
middle finger. He adopted a look of judicious consideration, yet I sensed fear there. Goodwife Gristwood’s news would have been a shock – Marchamount would guess Cromwell would be
making enquiries and know that if he did not satisfy him he could find himself in the Tower, for all his airs.

‘I did not know Michael Gristwood well,’ he said. ‘He approached me to see if I needed a solicitor’s assistance a couple of years ago. He had been working with Brother
Bealknap, but they had quarrelled.’

‘I had heard. What was that about? Do you know?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Michael was not above a little sharp dealing, but he found the way Bealknap cheated everyone as a matter of daily routine hard to stomach. I told him there’d
be no sharp practice if he dealt with me.’

I nodded, acknowledging his point.

‘I farmed some small pieces of work out to him, but to be frank they were not well done and I gave him no more. I heard he’d gone to Augmentations and that did not surprise me, for
there are easy profits there. God have mercy on his soul,’ he added sonorously.